


Dear Arthur,

by TheGameIsOn_Geronimo



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Epistolary, Established Relationship, Historical Inaccuracy, Historical References, Introspection, Letters, M/M, Sad Merlin (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-30 03:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21421345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGameIsOn_Geronimo/pseuds/TheGameIsOn_Geronimo
Summary: Merlin writes letters to Arthur while he waits for him to come back.
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 71





	Dear Arthur,

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back with another Merlin story and I need to apologise because I was intending this to be angst with some fluff and humour, and then it just became more and more angsty! Sorry!  
Please note that I've tried to be fairly accurate with historical events and dates and stuff, but some things probably aren't right as I didn't do a lot of research and I wanted to mention certain things in the story. It's also very Euro-centric history as that's what I've learnt about, and also I suppose Merlin and Arthur are a British legend so.  
Special thanks must go to my friend who very patiently sat with me on trains while I asked complicated questions like 'What happened in the 1600s?'  
All mistakes are my own, and feel free to point any out if you notice them.  
Hope you enjoy! :)

Dear Arthur,

This is quite unexpected. Look at me, I’m writing letters to no one now. I must be completely losing it.

I couldn’t stay at the lake anymore. I’m sorry. It was just too much - the mud and the ever-still water. Out of the corner of my eye I would think I saw a ripple, something breaking the surface, and I would spin round with my heart pounding, because it could be you. It was never you. It was driving me a little bit insane, and so I’ve left. Not forever. I could never leave you forever. Just for a little bit, maybe a few weeks, maybe a few months. Just to breathe. Just to try and realise that there’s more to life than waiting for you. Although, I think this letter proves that I’m failing at that last bit. It’s just that there’s no one to talk to as honestly as I can talk to you (or well, talk to the air and hope that maybe somewhere you can hear me), so my thoughts are being written here. A letter I’ll never send, I suppose. Perhaps one that will never be read by its intended recipient. But I shouldn’t think like that.

Arthur, you’ll never believe it, but this world is so much bigger than I ever imagined. I’ve walked for days and still the land keeps rolling on and on and on. There are rumours here of the water that never ends - like your lake I suppose, but with no sign of the opposite bank. Apparently, it can be calm and beautiful, or rough and deadly - according to the will of the Gods. I think I’ll head for it - imagine what it might be like to stand on the edge of everything you’ve ever known and stare into infinite possibility. That sounds like the place for me. A place to make me forget, just for a little while, that you’re not here beside me.

You would like this freedom, I think. The ability to wander wherever your feet take you. You always felt so tied to Camelot - and with good reason - but I wish I could have snapped those bounds and let you see the world some more. Just for a few hours, or a few days, maybe. I think you would have enjoyed it.

I’m going to finish off now, and attempt to get some sleep. This letter-writing business has helped I think. I can listen to my thoughts better, and things seem clearer. Getting my jumbled feelings written out onto a page, instead of keeping them locked up inside me - who would have thought that would work? Maybe I’ll write more in the future.

Thinking of you, always,

Merlin

***

Dear Arthur,

It’s been a while since my last letter - sorry about that. Days have a strange habit of turning into weeks, and then months, and then years, and I can’t quite seem to get the hang of them. There are too many days I lose track of because I get lost in my memories and my dreams. Many of them are about you.

I think the last letter I wrote was about the sea? Oh, Arthur, you should have seen it! The crashing of the waves, and the power of the water. And the way it reflected the sky - endless blue stretching to the horizon. A bit like looking into your eyes. The place I ended up was Northumberland, and the monks at the monastery on Lindisfarne were very kind and welcoming. I stayed with them for a while - helped write out a few books, assisted them in prayer. And then I moved on. That’s what life is now - moving on. As I don’t age, I can’t stay in one place for very long as people get suspicious. Magic still exists of course, but it’s rarer and people are more fearful of it. Sometimes if I want to stay in a place a bit longer, I just magic myself a bit older, and then disappear when the ruse becomes too absurd to believe. When people say the old man has lived there forever. They have such short memories. I wish I could too.

I came back to the lake not too long ago - maybe you heard me there? It hurt so much that I don’t know how to explain it. Everything was the same. And every step felt like a stabbing sword in my heart from the reminder that nothing has changed. Well, nothing of importance. Despite everywhere I have been and everything I have seen the one thing I wish for most in the world still hasn’t come to pass. You’re still gone, after all. I can move on from many towns and many lives, and yet I can’t seem to move on from you.

Anyway, enough of me being maudlin. I’ve been doing okay, really. I’ve taken up farming - can you believe it?! I actually find it quite therapeutic and calming, and I think subconsciously I might make my crops grow more with magic. I’m not sure how to turn that off, but oh well, my vegetable basket isn’t complaining! I’ve also been the physician in several villages, or at least the travelling doctor. You were never convinced by my healing ability, but I think Gaius taught me well. I hope I’m doing him proud.

Another night’s come Arthur, and my candle is going to run out soon. It’s a full moon tonight - maybe you can see it from wherever you are. Maybe one day we could get closer to the moon. I’ve met so many people and learnt so much about human resourcefulness I kind of think we could. But perhaps I’m a mad old man dreaming of impossibilities.

Sleep well Arthur,

Merlin

***

Dear Arthur,

I think it’s a time of remembrance today. I’ve spent a long time trying to run from my memories. To run away from Camelot and the castle and from you, when I realise now that they are - and always will be - a part of me. They’ve shaped who I am, and I can never let them go. Maybe that’s okay. Maybe that’ll make them hurt less.

Sorry again, I’m being all nostalgic. It’s just that so many things have changed recently. Some raiders came from the north, and destroyed many villages before heading back over the freezing water. Some of them have settled too, and despite their less-than-warm welcome, they’re very nice. I suppose everyone is different, and that’s okay, and everyone has a right to survive, although it would be nicer if that involved less murdering at first.

They tell brilliant stories, Arthur. Of huge cliffs of ice and towering mountains and deep, deep rivers. I didn’t understand them at first - their tongue was rough and harsh, but over time they’ve taken some of our words and we’ve taken some of theirs. A link together of two people. Harmoniously this time.

And it makes me nostalgic. To watch these things change. So many years have passed, and I still remember walking into Camelot for the first time as though it were yesterday. I remember meeting you for the first time. You were such a PRAT, Arthur, and I thought you were so spoilt and arrogant, and at that point you were. But then I learnt more about you, and I got to know you better, and I realised there was so much more to you than that.

Things keep reminding me of Camelot. I met a milk-maid who reminded me of Gwen, with curly hair and a warming smile. She was very helpful when I couldn’t find all of my sheep (yes, I’m still farming, and stop laughing at the idea of me having sheep!). I met a noble who reminded me of Gwaine - all effortless handsomeness and mischievous grins. He travelled with me along the road down to Londinium, and then - to be honest - didn’t want to let me leave. He made me laugh, and I owe him a lot for that.

I’m in the south now, where the beach sand is soft, and the sun is warm. My restless feet want me to head over the water, but I’m kind of scared. I’ve never been that far away from home, even though everything that was my true home has already crumbled to dust, but something in my heart longs to see other places. Maybe it’ll be a mistake. Maybe it’ll be an adventure. I’ll let you know.

Setting sail,

Merlin

***

ARTHUR

Wait, that’s not right, I’m supposed to start with ‘Dear Arthur’, aren’t I? Oh well, whatever.

You’ll never guess where I am! No seriously, you’ll NEVER guess, because you probably didn’t know this place existed. Well, I got on a boat. Wait no, not a boat - a ship! All huge sails and oars and stuff, and it went splashy splashy splashy over the waves until it got to land. And then I walked for literally ages, and now I’m here. In Europe! And they have the best alcohol!

I wish I could tell you that I am completely sober right now, but that would be a lie. I am a teeny-tiny, itsy-bitsy bit drunk. But I’m writing to you, and that obviously shows that I am one hundred percent in control of my own thoughts.

Not sure what I need to update you on, really. Some guys came across the English Channel and won some wars and now we all speak a language with more French words in it. England has a proper lineage of kings now too - although I don’t get why people have forgotten about all the ones who came before them. The first guy was called William the Conqueror - I mean, how stuck up do you have to be to name yourself that?! That’s like you calling yourself Arthur the Undefeated or something. Which would be stupid, because you did get defeated. Anyway, William died and he exploded apparently so obviously attempted scary names don’t help you that much. ALSO! People have properly forgotten what happened in the past. Like they don’t even know the good stories anymore... like Lancelot! How do you forget Lancelot?! I’ve started spreading the stories again because they are IMPORTANT and I think everyone should know them. Something may have got lost in translation though, because people always seem to think that I was a wise old man-wizard from the very start? And I wasn’t?? We both know that, and stop laughing at me.

Ugh the room is spinning really a lot right now, and writing this is really difficult. I’m doing that thing where I stick my tongue out in concentration that Gaius always used to tell me off for. Except no one is telling me off now because Gaius isn’t here. Oh.

Europe is great Arthur! If you ever decide to get out of that damn lake I am so dragging you here for a holiday. There are massive forests and huge mountains and I’m pretty sure I saw a WOLF the other day, and like a BEAR too, and people have been telling me all these crazy stories about like wolves dressing up in grandmother clothes, and damn this world just amazes me. And PEOPLE amaze me! They’re everywhere, and their imagination is incredible! I feel SO HAPPY that I get to meet so many people, and hear their tales and just argh I wish you could be here too!

But that’s just the problem, isn’t it? You’re not here. And I’m still just waiting. Just biding my time until one day you might - just possibly - pop out of a lake and be able to smile at me again. I’m trying to do the best that I can, Arthur. I’m trying to make the best of the time that’s been given to me. It’s so hard. I wish you were here, sitting opposite me on this table. You’d roll your eyes and do that stupid secretive little grin and I would smile so widely at you because I’d be so happy that you were there. I wish that could be real.

I’ll buy a flagon for you, yeah Arthur? Then when you wake up you can come and get it and we can drink together?

Raising a glass for you,

Merlin

***

Dear Arthur,

You probably shouldn’t read this letter, or touch it. It might be infected, you see. It might be infected by the illness that’s got me. I’m sick, Arthur. Like really sick. There’s fever, and pain, and horrible boils, and people just don’t survive this. Nothing we’ve tried has helped. God, so many people are dying.

I suppose I should start by apologising for the last letter - it possibly wasn’t the best idea to write one while drunk. To be honest, I’m amazed that it’s even legible. Maybe that’s how you’ll remember me, an old drunk rambling in a tavern to no one. You always thought I spent far too much time in the tavern.

I don’t think I’m going to make it. This sickness makes my limbs feel so weak, that I can scarcely write down the words I want to say. But I have to, because you need to read them, sometime, somehow. I need to say thank you to you, just like you did to me. I need to thank you for giving me a purpose, and for being there beside me - someone to lean on, someone to laugh with, someone to be honest with. I really appreciate everything you did for me, even if you were an arrogant pig sometimes. I wish we could have had longer together. I wish I could touch you again, and I wish I could hold you. I wish I could tangle my fingers in yours, and hide under the blankets with you. I wish I could see you smile, and see the crinkling of your eyes. I wish, I wish, I wish. I wish things had been different.

Although, you never know, maybe this is what was meant to happen. A positive outlook on death I suppose. Maybe I’m supposed to die, and then I can see you again. Then we can be reunited. It’s a hope I’ll cling onto until my last breath, Arthur. Maybe I’ll get to see you soon.

I need to say sorry too. I can’t heal this illness. It’s swept across Europe quicker than anything I have ever seen, and I don’t know how to stop it. I’ve tried and tried and tried, and still people keep dying. Lives keep ending, families keep being broken apart, hearts keep breaking. Maybe it’s better that I go now, seeing as I can’t help anyone. An idiot boy who’s too lost in the past to know how to save the future. I’m useless. Even my magic seems to have little effect, and fat lot of good I am without my magic. I’ll pass away here in this dirty bed, and no one will remember me. No one will care that I’m gone, I’ll just be another body on a cart. No one will know that I tried, and failed to help. A small mercy I suppose.

God, Arthur, I can’t wait to see you again. I have missed you every day that you’ve been away. I thought that after all these years I would have stopped loving you, that the wounds would have healed and my heart might be whole again. But I haven’t, and they haven’t either. I still love you, so so much. And I can’t wait to tell that to you again. I can’t wait to see you, and to touch, and to hold.

Ha! I’m repeating myself. All my mind can think of is you, and how cool your skin will feel, and how much I love you.

Don’t worry, Arthur, we’ll be together again very soon.

From ashes to ashes,

Merlin

***

Dear Arthur,

So, it turns out that the last letter I sent was a false alarm. It seems that the magic that keeps me immortal also lets me survive even the worst plagues. I wish I could feel like I deserve it. I suppose that means I owe you an apology for scaring you (were you scared for me?), and for being so melancholy. When you think your life is about to desert you, I guess you think of all the things you need to say and try to get them out as quickly as possible. Maybe I don’t need to explain that to you - you’ve already been in that situation.

I’ve started travelling again, walking the dusty roads this way and that. I went as far as I possibly could to the east and found people there in the land of China! They put leaves in their water and drink it, and they have these amazing floating mountains - it was absolutely beautiful!

There are people all over the place it seems. I headed north and found people in the frozen wastes eking out a living with fish and seals from the ice. I went south and found people under the scorching sunlight, ploughing the flood plains of mighty rivers and trying to keep the sand at bay. They say there are lands over the waters, and I’m not sure I can wait much longer to see if the myths are true. There’s either land, or I’ll drop off the side of the Earth!

I’ve also been making friends as I go. You know me - always a smile ready for the next passer-by (they got dimmer after you left, but I’ve been trying to get better.) I met the cleverest man I think I’ve ever seen in Italy - his name is Leonardo. He watches the water, and the way things move, and the way the world works, and writes about it and applies it to other things. He keeps notebooks, and you’ll never believe it, but he writes backwards, so a mirror reflects the correct words! He’s also a painter, and completely besotted by this woman called Lisa. I keep telling him he should talk to her, or at least offer to paint her a portrait, but I’m really not sure he will.

I find it so funny to see the small aspects of human life. The love stories, and the friendly chats, and the bouts of mischief. Sometimes I get so bogged down in the matters of life and death, and I get so focussed on merely surviving, that I forget about actually living. I’m lucky enough to experience all of these people and places and cultures, and I’m going to make sure I appreciate every second. There would be no point if I wasted it - I may as well just be sitting by your lake for eternity.

Got to dash, Arthur - Leo and I are going to try and build a pair of wings (or at least a glider). I suppose if you don’t hear from me again, the test run may not have been as successful as we hoped!

Flying high,

Merlin

***

Dear Arthur,

I am so mad at humans. Like seriously I am FURIOUS, and I am honestly ashamed that I have to lump myself in the category of humanity. Like okay first there were all the wars and the English crown going back and forth and back and forth, and that was FINE, I could HANDLE that, because it was politics and politics happens sometimes. And then when King Henry decided to split with the Catholic Church I was like okay dude, you do what you like. And then the Europeans went across the Pacific and found a new land and then MURDERED EVERYONE THERE FOR GOLD AND BECAUSE OF ILLNESS (and toppled whole damn civilisations in the process) which is absolutely ABHORRENT but it was too late to actually do anything about it. Now however, when it comes to DELIBERATELY BURNING INNOCENT PEOPLE, I have to draw the line. Like, seriously??! And in Britain too?! Ugh humans.

I suppose I owe you a proper explanation rather than a rant. Obviously everyone has forgotten everything about the dark ages, because they’ve started burning witches again. Hip hip hooray. I thought I got rid of this problem a thousand years ago and yet here we are again. It’s a bloody nightmare.

And what’s worse is that they’re all so fucking proud of themselves. There’s this guy right, called Matthew Hopkins, and he’s self-appointed himself as the ‘Witchfinder General’?! Like it’s something amazing and worthy of recognition?! All he’s doing is pointing at old women and exclaiming loudly ‘thou art a witch’. Honestly, he’s worse than Uther, and that’s saying something.

Anyway, England’s gone a bit depressing (and London nearly burnt down but we don’t need to talk about that.) No wonder some people are getting away and heading to the new land of ‘America’ - maybe it’s a bit more peaceful than this damn continent.

I can’t even be mad at ALL humans, and it’s so frustrating. So many of them are so cruel, and yet so many of them are so lovely. The lady who gave me a spare loaf of bread the other day was so warm and friendly. The man whose cart I helped fix on the road was so grateful. There was a man in London who wrote amazing plays that were sometimes funny and sometimes sad. He lost his son, and yet he still wrote things to entertain people - isn’t that brave? Isn’t that something we should celebrate?

There’s a man in Italy watching the stars every night. He says there are other planets out there, with moons of their own. He says he has evidence that Earth orbits the sun (like Copernicus suggested!) - like it is literally moving through space right this second. Isn’t that an amazing discovery? Isn’t that incredible?

Humans beings are brilliant! And yet they’re also terrible. Two sides of the same coin (ha!) and multiple shades of grey in an infinite spectrum. I have watched them now for centuries. How they work, how they live, how they love. They scrape out existences for themselves, fight for what they believe in, hold themselves high, and I’m so proud of them. But at the same time, they cause such destruction. They flatten forests, and alter river courses. They tear walls to the ground and burn villages. And they kill. God, they kill so much. Is that right? Are they superior? Who has the right to decide who can die and who can live? Who could ever make such a choice?

I’m getting kind of deep, aren’t I? I wish there was an easy answer, but I fear that humans will always be unpredictable and unstoppable. They surprise me every day, and I’m sure they will still in the future.

I must go now - I’ve been asked to help move some gunpowder (don’t ask, you don’t want to know) around this castle I’m staying at.

Lost in unanswerable questions,

Merlin

***

Dear Arthur,

I’ve been thinking a lot about mortality recently. A heavy subject, I know. I guess when you don’t experience something, you can look at it as an outsider – someone disconnected and separate. Death in this world is so common. The insects that come out in the summer often get only days or weeks to live, and many animals only get a few years. And death affects humans too. It’s become something so common, you can just watch bodies be brought out from homes down the street. I guess that’s not so different from when you were alive. I thought we’d maybe be better at living by now, I thought maybe we would have made a difference.

I think I’m struggling because I have to watch it. Every day, every week, every month, every year, I have to watch people die, and that’s normal. And yet I can never follow them. Death is something I will never personally experience, as far as I know, and I don’t know, maybe I’m jealous of them? I sometimes think I’d like to die, to leave these struggles and this hard, hard life, but then it also terrifies me. What happens after you die? Is there Heaven and Hell? Is there another life? Is there just pure oblivion? Would I see you again? That’s the important question at least. Would I see you again? Maybe you know the answer.

And people have such limited time, Arthur! And it isn’t fair. Some people throw their lives away, letting seconds slip through their fingers without trying to accomplish anything, whereas some people grip time so tightly, as though they could stop it running out on them. I wish everyone could value every minute they’re given. I wish everyone could appreciate time, and feel honoured to be given it. Too many people don’t realise that others run out of time far too early, that their lives are snatched away from them. You were one of them.

I try and live for every second. I think I’ve gotten better at living, rather than merely surviving. I try and see as many places as I can, and I’ve been more open to meeting and talking to people as I go. When I think back to the young man who knelt by a lake for decades with tears running down his face and limbs too heavy to move, sometimes I can’t believe how far I’ve come. I’m an old, old man, but hopefully I’ve made some kind of a difference. And maybe, if you come back – no, when you come back – I can make a difference with you by my side. I’d like that. I have to remember, that although the plants and the leaves die and fall in the autumn, they always regrow in the spring. That’s what life is. Continual growth, an eternal cycle. If I remember that, I can have hope, because if there is a cycle, it means one day you will come back to me.

Life is kind of difficult at the moment. On one hand, new things are being discovered what feels like every week, but on the other hand there’s so much inequality it’s awful. The leaders of so many countries live in splendour and extravagance, and waltz around in pure ostentatiousness, while their subjects struggle to put food on the table. It’s just horrible. Some people are trying to rise up against their oppressors – there are revolts and riots all the time now. There are even whispers over the Atlantic that America might try and get rid of their British rule.

I wish everyone could just be equal. That we could care about each other by the simple fact that we are all human. But people aren’t quite so understanding. Many of them are greedy, and think they deserve more than others. It’s a rather complicated debate, I think, although to me the answer of equality seems simple. Maybe we’ll figure it out one day. Who knows.

Sorry, this has been a rather rambly, long-winded letter. You probably would rather know about new worlds and new things. I’m sorry that I can’t be happier, and that I think too hard about these things. I’m sorry that these letters always seem to have an apology in them. I’m hoping for a better future. I’m hoping the future will have you in it.

Still waiting,

Merlin

***

Dear Arthur,

I promised myself that I would write you a happier letter, a more interesting letter. I told myself that you would rather read one where you could imagine me smiling while I was writing. I thought I would be able to, but now I don’t think I can. I’m not even sure you’ll be able to read this, my hand is shaking so much.

I’m scared, Arthur. Like, really really scared. You told me once that you thought I was the bravest man you ever met, but I feel like the furthest thing from that man right now. So much has changed. God, I don’t know where to start. I suppose it begins with steam? Some inventors started using steam to power things, like to literally make things move. They made things called trains which are incredibly fast modes of transport. They’re so loud, like thunder growing steadily louder as the storm passes by. And then they used steam to power other machines, and learnt that burning things produces energy. There are huge factories now, making things at speeds we could once only dream of. This all feels like a nightmare, but it’s real. It’s awe-inspiring, and it’s awful. The soot in the air catches in my lungs, the pollution in the water disgusts me. I want to scream at them to stop, to turn off their machines, to take a breath of fresh air. But they wouldn’t listen to me. This is innovation, apparently.

They’re turning away from nature. Where once there were meadows, there are now rows and rows and rows of the same crops, ploughed with heavy machinery. Where once there were clean rivers, there are brown, stinking veins of sludge meandering through the landscape. Nature is being destroyed, weakened, violated, and I fear my magic will go with it.

I am made of magic. I’m not sure I ever explained it to you properly – I suppose there wasn’t really time, was there? I am born of magic. Magic is me. And magic comes from the world. From the air, and the water, and the earth, and the fire. Magic comes from _life_, and life is being stripped away at rates I have never seen before. I am so scared.

I am nothing without my magic. I will be _nothing _whatsoever. I will be a silly old man, with long-gone memories of a world that doesn’t exist anymore. I will be useless, and I will never be the same. And I don’t know how to stop it. I can only hope that I can cling onto the magic, keep it safe in my heart and soul. Maybe I can protect it within my blood and bones. If I can keep a spark alive, we all know that a spark could easily become an inferno.

And what of my immortality? Surely it is magic that keeps me alive? If it dies out, what will I become then? Will I age naturally? Turn to bones, and then dust, just as everyone else does. Will I survive long enough to see you again? And what if my magic keeps me remembering? What if, without my magic I become _normal_, and I lose the life I have had? What if I forget you?

That thought scares me more than anything else, Arthur. I could survive without my magic, or at least I could learn to. I can work without it – I spent so long pretending not to have it, after all. But forgetting you… there are no words for how I would feel. And it would be worse, because I wouldn’t know what I had forgotten. Although, I feel that you own such a huge part of my heart, that I would always know something was missing, even if I didn’t know you.

I’m scared of forgetting the way your eyes glittered in the moonlight, when we were alone in the woods and no one could see us. I’m scared of forgetting how your laugh would burst out of your chest when we stumbled around your room after too many drinks at a feast – loud, and surprising, and beautiful. I’m scared of forgetting how soft your fingers were in my hand, how warm you were when you hugged me, how your lips felt against mine. Above everything else, I’m scared of forgetting how much I love you. How it felt like an insatiable hunger, and then mellowed into a warm glow that would never grow cold. How it has been in me for well over a thousand years now. How it has caused me pain, and anger, and joy, and everything in between. God, how I love you. If I lose that, Arthur, life isn’t worth living anymore.

I’ll try and keep the flame flickering. I’ll cup it in my palms and breath life into it. I’ll try to not let the magic die. I’ll make sure I don’t forget you. Hurry though, won’t you, Arthur? It’s been so long now, I’m worried I can’t accurately recall your face, or your voice. Hurry, in case I can’t keep the magic alive. Hurry back to me, and that way I’ll know I really will never lose you, not even from my memories.

Hurry, my love,

Merlin

***

Dear Arthur,

I’ve changed my mind since my last letter. Please don’t hurry back, you don’t need to see this. I don’t want you to see this. You _can’t_ see this. It would break your heart.

The world is at war. Not one of the wars of the past, with arrows, and spears and shields. I thought they were the worst thing this species could throw at me, but I have never been more wrong. The _whole world _is at war, countries against countries, and there are guns and grenades and bombs, and I can’t even explain the horror of what this is like.

I signed up for the army. I thought I could _help_, and now here I am on the front line in France, camped in a trench, drowning in the mud. There’s a stretch of land in front of me – it’s been called no-man’s land – and beyond that is the trenches of the Germans. Tomorrow, we’re going over the top. We’ll clamber up these sandbag walls and sprint over the slippery ground while dodging bullets and trying to shoot as many of the enemy as possible. So many will die. So many. It might all just be futile.

I can’t believe you’re not back yet, Arthur. You’re supposed to come when Albion’s need is greatest, and if we ever have a greater need than what is happening now, then I don’t want to see it. Millions of people are dying. I have seen horrors I never wanted to. Horses were massacred right in front of me, when we originally thought we could win this with traditional tactics. There are fleas, and lice, and rotting bodies in the mud. There are explosions and there is fear. And even if you get out alive, you are often scarred and traumatised.

Where are you? You should be helping us! You are supposedly a great warrior, and yet you’re not here! I wish you were here, but I hope you never have to see anything like this. What a paradox, hey? I hope you never have to see human beings be this cruel. I hope you never have to see the squalor, and the hopelessness in the soldier’s eyes. You were always so full of hope, and bravery, and kindness. I hope you never have to see something like this. I think it would kill you.

It feels like night has fallen over the whole of the world. One of those long, cold nights, where you’re not sure if the dawn will ever come. But it must do, I hope. Surely the light must return to the world at some point? The world keeps turning, day after day after day, and so surely this misery will end? Surely there will peace, one day. I can only hope so. I can only hope that the sun will rise over us again, and that is will warm this torn landscape. Maybe it will make the grass grow again, maybe it’ll make flowers grow too. Maybe this place of horrors will look gorgeous one day.

If I’ve learnt anything over all these years, it’s that life continues. Maybe the human race will kill itself, but I think the Earth will spin on, and nature will reclaim what was rightfully hers. I think that would be beautiful. I think that could be a world I would love.

Dreaming of the dawn,

Merlin

***

Dear Arthur,

I last sent you a letter from the war – sorry, it’s been a while. We won that war, and the one that followed it. We fought for freedom, and we won. It’s not perfect, but it’s getting better. People are living longer, more people are free, more people are equal. There’s still a way to go, but compared to what I’ve seen over the years, this is pretty good. Maybe you’ll get to see it.

The world is quicker now. You can fly (yes, actually fly) across the oceans, you can send a message to someone in less that a second, you can speak spontaneously to someone on the other side of the world. Nature is still being ripped apart, and they’ll have to do something about that very soon, but human ingenuity really is incredible.

I always seem to write my letters at night time. It seems to be the time I think of you most often. I’ve come back to the lake. It’s a little way from the nearest large city, and so you can see the stars here. They’re as beautiful as they were back when you were alive. They’re constant, they’ve always been there. My silent sentries, keeping an eye on my wandering feet. If I stare at them for long enough, I feel like I could fall up to them, dance among them. It reminds me of you being pressed next to me, as we watched their unwavering path across the sky through the tree branches. The way we would draw shapes within them. The way I would press my face into your neck, and breathe you in. We could go to them one day. I thought it would be an impossible dream, but the humans really did reach the moon not too long ago. They’re aiming for Mars next, but then who knows? The whole universe spread out to explore. It sounds rather magical.

They passed a new law in the United Kingdom today. It says that now homosexual couples are allowed to get married legally. I feel like I’ve been waiting forever to hear such a thing, and yet it doesn’t mean much when the one person I would marry is no longer beside me. Maybe you could come back now, Arthur? I’ve waited for so long, I’ve been so patient. Maybe you could step out of this damn lake, and smile at me again. Please, come back soon.

If you did, we could fall in the love again. The way we did in Camelot, with bickering, and secret smiles, and halting touches. With rapid heartbeats and whispered confessions. We could fall in love and then get married. Properly. Like what we always dreamed about, when we said we would love each other forever, when we said we would never leave each other, when we wanted to grow old together. We could have that. ‘Till death do us part, and everything in between that life throws at us. We could get married under the same stars that we first met under. It would be like nothing had changed even though everything has. It would be like coming home.

Would you agree to it, Arthur? If I asked you to marry me, would you say yes? Would you hold my hand as we walked down the street? Would you kiss me when I woke up next to you in the mornings? Would you stay with me forever? I hope I know what the answer is, but it would be nice if you could actually wake up and tell me. You always were a lazy clotpole, but now I’m so impatient. I want you to be mine, and I want everyone to know, and I want to be joined in a way that people can’t dispute. So soon, Arthur. Come back soon, okay? I’ll be here.

I love you,

Merlin

***

Dear Merlin,

There are too many things to say, I’m not sure where to start. I read your letters. There, that’s a good way to begin. I need to apologise for not reading them sooner, and for the late response. I was indisposed, you see, but I know it would have made me very happy every time I opened a letter from you if I had received them in the ordinary way. As it is, I had to snoop through a drawer in your desk to find them, you secretive idiot. You could have shown me them before, you know. I would have absorbed every word, and you have nothing to be embarrassed about.

I don’t think I can possibly respond to every statement and every question in your letters, not unless I wrote you thousands and thousands of words. What I do want to say is, I’m glad you went exploring and got to see so many extraordinary things. I’m glad you learnt so much. What I also want to say is, I’m so sorry it was so hard. I don’t think I can fully comprehend what you have been through, and everything you have seen. I’m sorry so much of it was awful, I’m sorry that the humans let you down so many times. I’m glad you had some good times in there as well.

I wish I could have been there with you. I would have been able to comfort you, wrap you in my arms, and wipe your tears away. I would have tried to fight off your demons, and tried to protect you from the horrors of the world. I’m sorry I left you, and I’m so glad you were so strong and so brave that I have been able to see you again. I wish I could have made memories with you for the many past centuries that you have wandered, but – and I think you would say this – that is in the past, and I can do nothing to change that. I can only hope that we can now use the future to make memories together. I’m looking forward to it. I can’t wait.

I also need to thank you. Thank you for surviving. Thank you for being there for me. Thank you for waiting. I’m sorry I took so long. Thank you for not finding someone else, and thank you for smiling at me when I climbed out of that freezing lake. That smile stole my heart once before, and it did so again on that day. Thank you for letting me into your home. Thank you for showing me this crazy new world. Thank you for everything.

I think there is one very serious thing in particular from your letters that I do have to answer. You often talked about me, about remembering me, about thinking about me. Well, let me just say that I am honoured, and that in death I thought about you too. I remembered the way your eyes glow when magic flows through your fingertips. I remembered the way your fingers felt in my hair. I remembered leaning my head on your chest and listening to your heartbeat. I remembered tangling our feet together under the covers, tickling you to make you giggle, telling you my deepest secrets, and always trusting you to be honest with me. I loved you, Merlin. And it’s very easy for me to say that I still do. I love you.

Which brings me to the questions at the end of your last letter. The answer to all of them is yes. There is no doubt or uncertainty in me. Yes. The answer will always be yes. I will hold your hand as much as you want me to. I will kiss you at all times of the day, especially if it makes you blush. I will be by your side for as long as I possibly can. For eternity, I would stay with you – and you of all people must know that that is not a promise made lightly. And most importantly, yes, I will marry you. I feel like there should be a ring involved here, and one of us down on one knee, but if this is how it goes then I don’t care. I have loved you for over a millennium, through life and through death, and I would gladly make it ‘official’. I would shout it from the roof-tops if you would let me. I want to spend my life with you. I have never wanted anything so badly. So, yes. Yes, yes, yes. I love you, Merlin. I always have, and I always will. Now and forever.

To the future,

Arthur

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone interested these are the vague dates I had in mind for each letter (assuming Merlin/Arthur/Camelot etc were around in about 500 AD)  
1 - 600 AD  
2 - 700 AD  
3 - 900 AD  
4 - 1100s  
5 - 1300s  
6 - 1400s  
7 - late 1600s  
8 - 1700s  
9 - 1850 ish  
10 - World War 1 (1914-1918)  
11 - 2013; Same-sex marriage legalised in UK  
Arthur's letter - Present day
> 
> Thank you for reading! :)


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